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Emotional Toll Of Life

American society is as vain as they come. We base everything off of our looks and judge everyone else based off of theirs. Highly critical and overly judge mental we put pressures onto each other to maintain some fictitious ideal and maintain it indefinitely. My looks were passing or fine enough to pass into obscurity before all of this happened, and that worked for me. I have no interest in standing out, never have. I am average almost all the way around.


Now, due to the side effects of the medication I emotionally and physically flinch every time I see myself in the mirror. I even went to get my hair cut to help myself, since I have been too tired to fix it, which went very badly. My haircut ended up just making it worse. The barber meant well but did not listen and cut it extremely short causing me even more work and emotional stress. Wanting to cry and yell in frustration every time I look in the mirror is taxing. I already have so many stressors, and this just adds to them. I have honestly been shopping for cloth hats and other hats... knowing that any other things done to my hair would just make everything that much worse. The added weight from all of the body swelling and added eating also due to the medication not withstanding. I’ve never felt uglier in my life and all we do is judge based on physical beauty. I’m not vain, but I am very aware of other people.


I was already starting to become ill, both my boys had already had to stay home to due chest colds. My youngest is lazy and doesn’t cover his mouth, wam bam I’m starting to get sick as well. I haven’t been out of the house since May 23rd. My immune system, being what it is, was quickly butt kicked. Though, truth be told I was already feeling the cost of my immune system fighting a week before and have standing orders to go to the ER the day of the 23rd due to my high white blood cell count. Today, I’m going to try and get my mail and ironically my medicine for the chest cold. Being asthmatic, crap in the chest is always the worse anyways. Funny enough, I’ve read over 23 books since I became sick. So, that is where I’ve been, in bed hacking up my lungs with no voice with which to speak and looking at cloth hats.

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